The sun finally came up and casted its light across a sea of dead bodies. He turned to his Enemy and asked, "So, after all this you still want me to be the warden of Your prison? Why?"
"You have the temperament for the job."
He stared in disbelieve for a few moments and then a smile slowly crept across his face. "OK," said Satan, "I'll take the job."
Gabriel gathered up his dusty tricorne from the shore and tugged it down over the Bedouin girl's head. "Maybe we will Cera," he said with a smile, "Maybe we will."
And so I shall set my quill down and leave it to the winds, for my inkpot is almost empty, and the parchment upon which I write soiled with the blood from my hands.
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